


As the Road Goeth

by Sentionaut



Category: Dark Souls (Video Games), Dark Souls II, Ranma 1/2
Genre: Action/Adventure, Dark Fantasy, Gen, Horror
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-09
Updated: 2015-08-13
Packaged: 2018-04-13 20:42:16
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,310
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4536633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sentionaut/pseuds/Sentionaut
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A new bearer of the curse has been chosen, and four souls call out to be claimed.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

The smallest of sparks can kindle a flame, and this spark began curiously enough, in a dream. One forgotten, buried among triumphs and losses, lessons learned, and ones unheeded. A twisted jumble of events both mundane and outrageously fantastic; that was the landscape in which the fire was born. A single solitary ring of flame that burned dark, leaving ash and dust in its wake as it spread, fanned by the fuel of pride and fear. It was this very ring that Ranma Saotome found himself in, as awakening would be a strange concept to one caught up in the slumbering world.

The pig-tailed martial artist was covered in a thin sheen of sweat, wearing little more than the boxers and tank top he’d thrown on before hitting the sack. The scorched ground was cool beneath his bare feet, and the thin layer of ash rose up in small puffs between his toes as he turned about to get his bearings. “This is,” he spat out, finding the air thick and heavy with the scent of something burning. The smell was vaguely familiar, and altogether unpleasant, enough that he covered his mouth with one hand, trying to ward off the stench with the other.

It recalled a memory of when he’d been camping out on the road with the old man. They’d both been stuck in the rain for what had seemed like days on end. The first night that they’d managed to get a decent fire going under an overhang, the stupid panda had fallen asleep too close to the edge of the campfire. Burning fur and skin had woken both of them up, stunk up the place bad enough that they’d almost headed back out into the weather. This smell here was like that, he realized, squinting against the waft of ash and smoke that drifted into the circle surrounding him.

The flames crackling at the edge of the ring, some few short meters away weren’t very tall, knee height if even that. But Ranma couldn’t see much at all past that line of flickering light. There was movement out there, he could tell that much. Movement hidden in scraps of shadow, as ephemeral as the faint lines of heat that rippled above the flames. “Who’s out there,” he shouted, feeling a little foolish in the process, but the sound of his own voice was strong enough to quash the sliver of fear that had bubbled up in his gut. He was hardly a kid anymore, and certainly not defenseless. His free hand curled into a tight fist.

“Show yourself,” he shouted past the flames. “You’re messing with the wrong guy,” Ranma lowered the hand he’d been blocking the smell with. He could deal with a little stink if it meant upping the intimidation factor. “You listening to,” his words broke off as a darker shadow appeared, towering over both the ring and the young man inside, “me.”

From high above, behind the shadowy form, there came a brilliant flash of light that almost blinded the martial artist. A distant peal of thunder sounded just after, and the lingering light was enough to illuminate what stood before him. “The hell,” Ranma blinked away the jagged afterimage and fell into a familiar stance in the same breath.

The huge figure was both recognizable and unwelcome in equal spades. Towering above the Saotome heir was one self-proclaimed Blue Thunder of Furinkan High, decked out in full Kendo tournament gear, sans the helmet. “Kunou,” Ranma spat, fully aware of the encroaching storm, and the hazard that it heralded. Sure enough, he could feel small drops of water strike his exposed skin, not enough to trigger the curse, yet. The fact that the kendoist was here and apparently a giant to boot was enough to recall the nature of the moment, the unreality of it to be more precise. As the rain began to fall in earnest, Ranma’s opinion favored that of a nightmare, rather than a more dismissible dream.

“Verily, it is as you say, Pig-tailed girl,” the unwelcome behemoth boomed above the sound of pouring rain. “It is our strange fate to meet once again. Though I do admit that yours is a welcome sight in this dismal setting,” the large sword practitioner swept a hand through his dripping locks, pushing errant strands from his face. “To happen upon such a flower blooming here of all places, the honor truly is mine.”

“Stuff it, Kunou,” the young woman that Ranma had become said, feeling a headache coming on already. His presence in a dreamscape was almost more unwelcome than in waking life, though the tall figure was curiously restrained in comparison to what had occurred in the past. “What do you want,” she asked, fully aware of the faux samurai’s usual intentions regarding her person.

The looming figure did not immediately answer, preferring instead to turn its attention to the flames surrounding the cursed martial artist. “These flames, have bound you, have they not?”

Ranma found herself shrugging. She hadn’t exactly had time to test the fact behind that theory, though now was certainly as good as later. “We’ll see about that,” she said crouching slightly with the full intent of jumping well over the edge of the ring, away from Kunou naturally.

The pigtaileg-girl’s posture was not lost on Kunou, who tried to hold up a hand in warning before the object of his concern made her leap. “It would be prudent to wai-,” his objection was cut off as the woman kicked off with a graceful spring, sending a small cloud of ash skyward in the process.

Kunou’s warning was not without merit, Ranma found out mid leap as she dropped writhing to the ground before reaching the perimeter. The circle visibly contracted at the same time, shrinking to within footsteps of the floored redhead. “You’ve got to be kidding me,” she vented, slapping the ground with a palm even as she rolled to a sitting position in the center of the reduced ring of fire.

“As I feared, thou hast been entrapped within the very same prison as I,” the kendoist lamented, “a cage of the vilest construction, but one not suffered long, if the past rings true.”

The huge form of Tatewaki Kunou stood tall to his full and considerable height, resembling more and more one of the statues outside a Buddhist temple. The likeness to the imposing carved figure of Raijin was all too fitting given both the kendoist’s moniker, and penchant for storm themed entrances. It was a comparison that Ranma herself was not inclined to ever voice, and certainly not to the man himself, for fear of inflating an already horrendously huge ego. She’d vanquished one self-proclaimed god, and didn’t relish the thought of quashing another pretender any time soon. 

“Uh, what are you doing,” the redhead slid easily to her feet the moment she noticed that Kunou was gripping a wooden sword high overhead, and clearly intending on rending the flaming circle with the force of his blow. She couldn’t discount the possibility, given his past track record in cracking things with the air pressure alone, but even in a dream she didn’t want to be standing directly in the path with no way of evading the strike zone.

“Fear not, fair pig-tailed girl, for I, Tatewaki Kunou, will free you from this cursed prison once and for all,” he shouted, already swinging with deadly precision borne of a lifetime of practice. It was calculated and true, the blow halting a few hand spans above the red haired woman’s head. Even without connecting directly with anything, a shockwave of air radiated outward from the center of the slash, intent on snuffing out the flames. The force was enough to scatter the rest of the ash to the winds, and even drive Ranma down to one knee as she braced against the blow.

Coughing and sputtering, Ranma wiped at the gray coating of grime that now coated most of her, sticking in uncomfortable places thanks to the sweat. “You moron, are you trying to crush me?”

“My aim was true, O crimson sylph,” came the thundering reply from above. “But, alas, I have failed you, as I failed in my own endeavor. I had hoped, from the outside there would be a way.”

Indeed, even a strike with all the force of an avalanche behind it did little to waver the flames, let alone extinguish them. If anything, Ranma noted that the flickering grew more brilliant and suddenly a lot closer. The circle began closing with increasing speed, eating up the remaining ground until it nearly brushed her toes.

“I cannot aid you here, but perhaps elsewhere my worth will be proved,” the shape of the towering Kunou bent double and more as the kendoist prostrated himself in the dirt before the incensed martial artist. ”Forgive my weakness, please.”

He was still bowing as the flames shrunk further, until they touched flesh and spread upward. Ranma didn’t even have time to protest as the fire ate at her clothes and curled her flesh. In the darkness of the nightmare, a small pillar of fire soon snuffed out, and all was silent as dawn broke over the distant horizon. In this way, the dream faded as a new day in Nerima began and one pigtailed martial artist finally awoke.


	2. The First Step

The air was still, but heavy, like a storm had just passed. Which made a certain sense if that were the case, as she sputtered awake, with a gasp, heaving and retching. A face full of water seemed to have that effect. Wiping away the remnants from her mouth, the young woman pushed herself into a sitting position. It wasn’t any more comfortable, she found as she tried to gain her bearings. Something, anything that looked familiar would do.

Instead, there was only hard stone and small puddles of water to greet her. She found herself seated on a large dais, flanked by thick pillars, otherwise featureless and plain. None of it was polished, but it was all smooth to the touch, not rough like concrete. Above the pillars met with a ring of similar make, all open to the night sky. Well, it was dark to be sure, with no stars in sight. Nothing to latch onto, or help make sense of things. So she first thought. But, no. There was something far off, pale like the moon, yet not so distant.

It took effort to stand. More than should have been necessary. At least, that’s how it felt. Marshaling her thoughts was difficult at best. It wasn’t simply the grogginess of suddenly waking. There was more to it, a feeling that tightened her stomach. Not fear, but unease. Like she was forgetting something very important. A vital thing, which defied naming. The harder she pressed, the more fleeting the sensation became, until it was almost gone, nothing more than the ghost of a thought.

What mattered was she was up now. She stretched, first one arm, and then the other, limbs that tingled faintly with each movement. That tingling feeling soon spread, as if everything had been asleep all at the same time. But, she resisted doubling over. It was better to work the kinks out. Keep moving, instinct said, and the pain would pass. There was no accompanying experience to back up the inclination, but she tried anyway. Shaking it off, she clenched her teeth, and stumbled forward until she was off of the dais.

The light in the sky was distant, hazy, almost as if she were looking through a great crack hanging high above. For the lack of clouds, the place might very well have been in a cave. But, there was so much space stretching to the horizon, that it felt otherwise. Surrounding the dais, a field of short dry grass went on until the ground began sloping upward and eventually hit a rock wall, lending credence to the impression of a cave. There was a hole in the wall, which more of that soft light filtered through.

Even from where she stood, it was easy to see that the passage was more than large enough for a single person to fit through. With little other recourse, she headed toward the sole source of light. The mere thought of a concrete destination untangled some of the knots in her stomach. Heedless of the rough soil, bare feet trod forward, step by step, growing a little surer with each moment. There was nothing aside from her few shorts breaths to mark the passage of time, and blinking, she had already reached the rough hewn split in the wall. Natural, or otherwise, it was a wide gash in the rock, and she passed through without a second thought.

The space beyond the wall was brighter, and enclosed in a ring of similar stone, or so she first thought. The grass here was taller, but no lusher than what she’d left behind. The air too, had lost that sense of thickness, it was almost dry. Perhaps because of that, sound carried easily, and she could hear a steady thump in her ears, and the soft rustle of grass.

A faint breeze stirred through the pass, and caught the taller stalks. But, as she looked around the encircled field, it quickly became obvious that not all of the movement was due to the wind. Here and there, clumps of grass shifted, and she could just make out several hunched forms scurrying about, close to the ground. It was enough to give the girl pause, but as she watched, none of the shadows running about moved her way. In fact, they actively seemed to be avoiding her.

She took a single step forward and then another, testing her intuition. The low shapes slid back through the brown grass and undergrowth, darting away from her potential path. With more confidence, she began heading toward the far side of the glade, one or two of the shapes flanking her progress only to veer off when their paths threatened to intersect. Once, she caught sight of a pair of yellowed eyes, shining brightly out from the scrub, but the thing darted off before she could get a better look. From what little she saw, the things were scrawny, almost like a small hairless dogs. Or large rats. The former was preferable in some way, she thought as she made to leave the clearing behind and step through the next split in the rock.

Here, the view widened considerably, and she could see the far rift clearly. That didn’t make it any easier to understand, but it was certainly not a trick of the mind, as she had wondered. The large bluish white glow that spilled out lit the area as brightly as any full moon. To her immediate left, a gout of water spilled through a gap in the rocky hillside. The resulting waterfall tumbled down into a stream below the ledge she found herself on. However, a short span of bridgework crossed the gap above the stream, precariously close to the water splashing down across the short cliff face.

The bridge itself almost directly led toward the rift up above, and she saw no other way across, and no other recourse unless she turned back the way she’d entered. It was easy enough to make up her mind on the matter, especially as she noticed something else across the bridge. There was another source of light, far closer than the rift in the sky. An orange light that held the promise of warmth, and more importantly, habitation.

Past the waterfall, and the creaking bridge, there stood a hut backed against the precipice of a sheer cliff. That drop was where the water thundered down along, and she had no care to explore it any closer than she already was. But the dwelling, that was a different story altogether. Her feet carried her forward, risking the planks sodden from the mist of the falls. A short walk indeed to reach what seemed to be the front door of the habitation. It was made of wood, and she could see light spilling through the cracks between the planks. She’d no more raised her hand to knock, when a voice bade her enter from inside.

The place was small and tidily kept. The crackle of a sizable hearth in the back of the hut drew her attention, as did the presence of her hosts. Three figures dressed in red robes were seated close to the fire, not seeming to have noted her arrival. Or if they had, not choosing to be bothered by it. Each of them were wizened, wrinkled by the sheer passage of time, yet for all that, it was impossible to guess how old they might be. Ancient, was the feeling the came to mind.

“That was dangerously close,” a woman’s voice called out as she entered the hut. The owner was busying herself with sweeping bits of leaves and dust from one corner of the room, just beside a small staircase to the right of the fireplace. Unlike the elderly trio, the woman was younger, not quite middle age, and conservatively dressed in clothes that matched the simplicity of the hut’s wood and plaster construction. Dress that evoked some spark of memory, a style completely out of fashion, antiquated, like everything else she could immediately see.

The woman keeping house eventually turned to face the guest, and her expression slid from nonchalance to mild concern, as her eyes widened in what might have been shock or disapproval. It was difficult to tell in the soft shadows thrown about by the flickering flames. “This won’t do at all,” she said, setting aside the broom and motioning the confused stranger to follow as she started up the stairs. “Come this way, and we’ll have you sorted right out. Can’t have you milling about looking like that now can we?”

With nothing better to prompt her, she followed after the woman, up the stairs and into a loft. Along the way, she glanced down at herself and found nothing particularly amiss with her attire. Her body however was another matter altogether. Her legs and arms were bare, the length of exposed skin rough, dry and cracked.

The flesh was hard to the touch, and dark, as if she’d been out in the sun for a very long time, time measured in months or years. But, however she tried, there was nothing that came to mind, no memory or recollection that tied her appearance to something concrete. Only the impression that it was wrong somehow.

However she felt about it, there was no pain as she probed the ruined landscape of skin on her arms. Whatever vexed the other woman, it didn’t seem to be her physical appearance, as the maid bustled about, pulling things from a large chest in the corner of the loft. Tossing the items on the sole bit of furniture in the room, a small bed, she turned at last to the hut’s new arrival. “This should do nicely for you, dear. Something more fitting than you running about in your underthings. Now, let us get you sorted out before you meet with those three.”

The younger woman looked over the clothes laid out for her, and back down at what she was already wearing. There was a marked difference in the quality of the make, and the amount of material, to be sure. She began disrobing, tossing the shorts and shirt she was wearing into a tiny pile on the bed. Her old clothes were damp, wrinkled and stained in various places, no feelings of attachment there, she decided. Nor did she care that she was left standing in the barest of coverings.

Thoughtfully, the maid had provided fresh undergarments as well. They were clean, though strangely hand sewn linen. She found it wasn’t the most comfortable fit, but better than nothing. “I can have these,” she asked, gesturing to the clothes laid out on the bed. Her voice came out as little more than a rasp, throat feeling raw just from speaking a few simple words.

“Of course, they’re for you,” the maid said, nodding as if it were common sense.

“I’ll take them, then,” the girl mumbled, some part of her satisfied at the answer. It wasn’t long before she was fully dressed, clad from head to toe in brown and black. It was a combination of supple leather and thick linen. The boots would need to be broken in she could tell, but they were sized to fit, as were her new gloves. The pants and top fit snug, but not tight enough that she had trouble moving. A dark green scarf completed the outfit, which the maid wrapped loosely around the young woman’s neck, barely concealing her mouth in the process.

“Now, that is a world better, If I do say,” the maid nodded to herself, standing back to take in the full sight. “Let’s get you down to see the old dears.”

“Where is this place,” the newly clad figure managed to whisper, before the maid reached the top of the stairs giving the woman pause.

“This is a limbo, of sorts,” she said, turning back to the guest with a sad smile. “A link between Drangleic and the outside world. Fair traveler, I know you must have a story, else why would you visit such a lost place.” The woman frowned, “Where are my manners, my name is Milibeth. The old women downstairs were once fire keepers. It’s my job to look after them. Tradition, you might say. Same as my mother, and her mother before her,” the maid stood a little taller at the admission. “Those three were keepers of the fire, but now that fire is fading. The kingdom falters, beset by all manner of men and beasts.”

“They are sisters, those three,” she continued, “There was once a fourth. But, that was well before my time. You see, long ago fire keepers were common place, but now what few remain are scattered to the four winds,” Milibeth trailed off. “That’s enough out of me. They’ve been left waiting,” she said as she led the way back down.

“This is Strowen, Morrel, and Griant, keepers of the fire,” Milibeth said by way of introduction, motioning to each in turn as their guest descended the last steps. Only now did the three wizened figures seem to pay any heed to the freshly clad newcomer.

The one named Griant turned ever so slightly toward the leather outfitted woman, light from the fire reflecting off blind old eyes, “What’s all this fuss about? Oh my, dearie, your face. Cursed you are,” she bit out, apparently not caring for niceties.

Morrel was less kind as she cut in, chuckling through her words, “It’s an undead. Come to play with us.”

The crone who’d spoken first resumed, not heeding the interruption, “You’ve seen it, haven’t you? Like in a dream, the burning symbol etched into your flesh. It’s there, we can tell.” 

“Cursed, undead, they all end up here, the ones like you,” Morrel laughed, grinning toothlessly.

The third keeper, Strowen overrode her sister’s cackling with a voice that carried the weight of ages, “Your flesh will rot, fall from those dainty bones, and your mind will leave you, but you won’t ever die. Not quite. No, you’ll go hollow, that’s what. A mindless brute, savage.”

“Hollow,” the young woman grit out, trying to make sense of what she was being told.

“Yes, you’ll become one of them. Preying upon men, gorging on souls. That is one fate carried by the sign on your flesh,” Morrel explained, never losing her grin.  
The young woman was about to ask more about the curse when Strowen spoke first. “Tell us, what is your name, dearie? Surely that much is not beyond you, yet.”

The question hung in the air, and the woman’s face above the scarf twisted in an effort to recall something that should be so basic. “My name,” she paused, mentally digging as the sense of unease gave way to a brief moment of panic. A moment that thankfully vanished as she seized on a scrap that had been riding the tip of her tongue. “Tendou, Nabiki Tendou,” she said with more certainty than she would have otherwise thought possible in that space and time. The name felt right, but had no other meaning, simply a label with no association. An empty vessel, that’s how she felt as the words tumbled across her tongue.

“It’s a start, of a sort. You’ll need more than a name to keep you going, but here’s your reward. For sharing with a few old women,” Griant continued in her sister’s stead. She reached into a pouch at her waist, taking out a small figurine. It looked handwoven, a mesh of thin twigs on first glance. She handed the tiny thing to Nabiki. “Maybe you know what it is. A human effigy.”

The three sisters all leaned forward in their rocking chairs, almost expectantly as their guest accepted the gift. “Take a closer look,” one of them prompted. “Who you do you think it’s supposed to be? It’s somebody that you know very well, if you care to look close enough. Do try,” the old woman bid.

Nabiki held up the woven figure to the light. It was featureless, the barest suggestion of a human shape, a simple bulb of a body and a lump at the top serving for a head. Yet, she stared closer as her mind discerned more distinct features taking shape. It was like staring at a cloud, and finding your own design. And suddenly, her eyes widened as she realized what she was looking at. Who she was.

The fire keepers must have noticed as well, because one of them spoke as the young woman was entranced. “Yes, that’s what it is, an effigy of you.”

Given some kind of meaning by the figurine, the young woman almost doubled over as emotions wracked at her. Memories and feelings came flooding in all at once. But, the torrent of self soon slowed to a trickle, and then subsided, leaving Nabiki flushed and out of breath. Her body no longer felt like a simple casing, but existed as she remembered it. Flesh that had been wasting away now held purpose and function.

With shaking fingers, she pulled off one of the gloves she’d been given, only to stare at healthy skin and well-manicured nails. The clothes too, fit more snuggly, than she first thought. Too perfect, as if it had been tailored for her specifically.

Having regained some sense of self, and a head full of questions, Nabiki replaced the glove, and composed herself. Yes, she knew who she was. But, the rest…the how and why. For that, there was only fog, blinding her mind’s eye. Where had she come from, and where was she going? Those were important solid wants on her part.

Before she could give voice to her concerns, the old crone called Strowen spoke up, “All people come here for the same reason, to break the curse. You’re no different I should think.”

“What curse,” Nabiki asked, already having heard the answer, but not having come to terms with it.

Her only answer was Griant’s wet chuckle, “Hmm, she doesn’t understand even that much. What hope does she possibly have?”

Morrel chose not to elaborate either, “Well, you never know,” she said to her sister. At least there was a kind of optimism in her tone. The old woman lifted a bony arm and pointed off to the side of the fire, “Go through the door and trot along. The kingdom lies that way. But, a word of caution. We suggest you make sure to hold on to your souls. They’re all that keep you from that sad fate, if you value your remaining humanity. Or go Hollow, like the rest.”

“Hollow, I,” Nabiki trailed off. She did understand that much. Hollow was how she’d been only moment before. Lost, and nearly witless. Nearly useless even to herself. There was no other comparison that she cared to make. Hollow, the word now held a kind of threat.

Morrel grinned at the expression flickering across the traveler’s face in the firelight. Better to crush useless hope before it fully kindled. Maybe it was a kindness, “Oh, there’s no way about it. You'll lose your souls, all of them, over and over again,” or not. “You must go on a journey without rest, but if your will remains steadfast, you are free to return here,” the rest she left unspoken.

The words did not feel like a comfort. Still maybe there was more to be gleaned. Nabiki began to speak, but again it was Strowen who cut her off this time, “Old hags don't bargain dearie, now go along. To the kingdom with you.”

With her objection cut off before it could be voiced, Nabiki found that the fire keepers had ceased paying her any mind, and were all gazing at the hearth, having dismissed the young woman. The maid however was another story. She ushered the lost woman over to the door at the back of the hut. It was darker there, despite the nearby flicker of light and heat.

“One last thing, dear. They meant for you to have this, as well. It isn’t much, I know. But it will serve you well on the road you find yourself taking,” with that said, she placed a heavy object in Nabiki’s hands. The door ahead was already open, the night beyond cool and dark.

Loathe to leave the hut, Nabiki found herself on the small steps outside before she realized that the maid had prodded her gently along. “Have a safe journey,” Milibeth called out in parting as the door shut behind, and the light shrank down to a sliver before being cut off.

“Wait,” Nabiki turned to call out, and found the door closed. “This is ridiculous. Where am I supposed to go?” She looked down at the weight in her hands, the last bit of warmth from the hut that she now carried with her. At first she thought it was a large cross. It was hard to tell in the shadows, but the feel of it was rounder, and there was a different sense about it. 

In the faint cracks of light from above the steps, she could just make out the contours, and she shifted it in her grip. Grasping it by both ends, she gave a tug and found herself holding two distinct pieces.

The one in her left was lighter, dull. The piece in her right, it held a glimmer of orange from the firelight behind the door. Metal, polished to a high sheen, and holding a fine edge. The blade was easily the length of her forearm, longer even. Some kind of dagger, she supposed. And she was expected to make use of this? The foreboding creeping around her gut only tightened its hold. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Less than pleased, she slid the blade back into its sheath, and tucked the whole thing into her belt for the time being until she could see well enough to find a better way to secure it. There was no way she was going to look a gift horse in the mouth, not when she was stuck in some crazy wilderness with nothing but the clothes on her back.

On this side of the hut, the fissure in the sky wasn’t visible, but there was still enough ambient light to find her bearings. Nabiki found herself in a tight clearing, a broken down cart off to one side and a tangle of brambles tight enough to form a wall closing off the rest of the space outside the hut. That’s how it seemed until she took the time to search the thorny wall and found a gap in the briar patch. Unlike the stone wall, this proved more of an obstacle, and she didn’t squeeze through unscathed, but for a few scratches here and there.

Thankfully, the new raiment provided her with ample protection from the more zealous thorns in the batch as she worked her way through the prickly underbrush. Past the brambles, the rocky surface returned with a vengeance, and a much longer tunnel. With nothing to light her way, it was very slow going, one hand pressed against a nearby wall, and testing footsteps until her eyes adjusted. There wasn’t much to see, but at least the footing was sure and the tunnel devoid of anything more precarious than a few loose pebbles scattered about.

Soon enough, just as she was growing weary of the dusty air, the tunnel began to brighten. Some of the light was far ahead, but there was more underfoot strangely enough. Dim shapes in the floor were glowing here and there. Most of the markings were partially covered in dirt and small stones, so she cleared two or three away with her foot. The source of the light was a series of letters, unfamiliar to say the least, but recognizable as some sort of script, taking up no more space than she could cover in a step or two.

At first, she thought the letters were carved into the floor, maybe filled with bio-luminescent fungus or something like that. But, when she bent down for a closer look, it was clear that the words existed independent of the floor. In fact, they resembled patches of shimmering oil that might be floating on the surface of water. Reaching out, she touched one pulsing group of orange letters with her gloved hand.

The reaction was immediate and visceral. A voice filled her ears, little more than a whisper really, but enough to startle her into falling on her rear. It sounded as if someone were talking to her from behind a thick wall, muted. Shaking her head to clear it, she reached out to touch the same symbols again, to see if it repeated. Her persistence was rewarded with a second performance.

This time, she was ready, and strained to hear just what was being relayed through the shimmering lines. She mouthed the words along with the auditory loop, “Gorgeous view ahead.” Rising to her feet, the lost traveler shook her head at the plain message. She didn’t know what to expect, but it was underwhelming to say the least. Disregarding the rest of the glowing words, she pushed on, toward the light and what had better not prove to be a disappointing sight.

To that end, she was not left wanting, as the darkness gave way to a wide vista. It was almost too much after the long walk and the oddly lit field surrounding the fire keeper’s abode. She found herself on an outcropping overlooking a vast expanse of shimmering blue to her right, and a loose cluster of buildings along the cliff below her that jutted out over the water. Her outcropping curved neatly into a winding dirt path that led to the heart of the settlement.


	3. Faint Hope

The village was little more than a collection of run down shacks, as she found once she reached the end of the footpath. At first, she thought it was abandoned, but as her eyes adjusted to the sunlight, she began to spot signs of life other than her own. The largest structure was to the far right of the habitation as she happened to be standing. An easy landmark, she thought for who could miss a towering monolith on a cliff overlooking the sea.

Initially, she’d almost mistaken the water, but the sound of waves carried along the cliffs and even up to where the small settlement was nestled. A bitter scent of salt and sea clung to the breeze, and it was refreshing compared to the damp tunnels she’d left behind.

Near the base of the monument, something glittered in the half-light of the sunrise. She shielded her eyes against the glare. “Someone’s up there,” she muttered, trying to confirm the notion for fact. Finding her way along the rocky path was no problem. Her feet were starting to ache from the new boots, but otherwise she was holding up just fine.

Just before she reached the beginning of the stairs, she passed by what looked to be a twisted and misshapen sword, stuck point down into a pile of ashes about half a meter across. For a moment, the bizarre pile gave her pause, and she felt herself reaching for the charred metal before coming to her senses. Shrugging off the weight of the compulsion, she drew her hand back, and left the sword behind, eventually reaching the bottom step that led up to the stone spire atop the precipice.

The stairs proved to be rather steep, but thankfully only consisted of a few dozen steps. From the bottom, it was obvious she hadn’t been mistaken, as a figure was sitting, lost in thought at the top of the steps. By the time she reached the halfway point, she could see that it was indeed a man, one clad in armor, resembling little aside from a medieval knight.

However, while it was undeniable that the man’s armor shone brightly in the sunlight, his bearing did not speak of brave deeds and battle won. His crestfallen demeanor reminded her of someone, but she couldn’t quite place it, and thinking on it too hard only brought frustration that she didn’t need at the moment.

The heavy atmosphere around the knight made it difficult to approach him with much sense of delicacy, so she opted for the next best option. Certain people required a straight forward approach after all. “Hello,” she said as she closed the distance to a few steps. “I’m sorry to interrupt, but,” was all she got out before clearly gaining the man’s attention.

Lifting his head from his hands, he stared down at the newcomer, blinking in the remains of the day. It was difficult to see from her position in the shadow of the monolith, but he might very well have been crying before her interruption.

The knight regarded Nabiki for a moment, before slumping down again, “You’re undead aren’t you,” his words were more of a statement than a question. “I can tell, it’s an unwelcome musk, too familiar these days.”

She didn’t know if he meant to insult her or not, but his tone was distant, impersonal. Still, it rubbed her the wrong way to be called musky, welcome or not. “I’m as alive as you are, I’d say,” she countered. “But, I’m not here to debate semantics. I just want to know where this place is.”

Seemingly unperturbed by the woman’s harsher tone, the seated figure answered her, “This place,” the armored man asked, staring out across the disheveled buildings below. “I’ve heard it’s called Majula, but I don’t suppose it matters much what you chose to call it. Home, maybe. A place to rest and wait,” he paused, rubbing at his face with gloved hands. “Look around, and you won’t find another like it in these lands, not anymore. Very few spots of comfort left,” the man’s tone grew more morose with each syllable he uttered. “Forgive my rudeness, I am Saulden, and like you I’ve lost everything.”

Nabiki could only nod at that. It was hard not to want to agree seeing as she couldn’t recall more than her name and a few tidbits of life before waking on that pedestal in the clearing. “Nabiki Tendou,” she offered in return.

“I would say it is a pleasure Miss Tendou, but precious little in this place is worth even that much. If you’re here, you must have heard about a way to rid yourself of the curse,” he chuckled wryly, shaking his head. “Maybe once there was something like that. But, as far as I’ve seen, that hope has long since fled.”

“You’ve seen them, I trust, the curious letters on the ground,” he asked suddenly. When he saw her nod faintly, he continued, “It seems they are messages, from far off. Things like time and distance are not always so trustworthy here in Drangleic. Poor souls, cursed like us, cry out for salvation across the void. These messages are their words given form, wishes and laments, warnings of things come to pass, and yet to be,” the knight leaned in, dropping his voice to a whisper. “There are others, signs that glow upon the ground. Those are no mere message scrawled in vain hope.”

“What’s the difference,” she asked, curious now, despite his forlorn manner of speech.

“Summon signatures glow a certain shade, bright as the golden sun, and they serve to call upon souls from other worlds across the void. Should you happen upon true danger, you would do well to find one of these symbols. They may offer aid, though I’ve found the opposite to hold true more often than not.”

“Of course,” she said, mostly under her breath. Still, it was finally something useful he was telling her. That was what mattered, not the delivery. “I appreciate the warning,” Nabiki frowned beneath her scarf.

“Indeed. As a final word of compassion from one troubled soul to another, the lump of twisted metal and ash you see down there is a bonfire,” the knight pointed to the charred blade buried in the pile of ash that she’d passed by. “They exist all across the land, offering succor to those cursed as we are. Should you grow weary on your way, I recommend resting by the flame, for it heals us.”

The wanderer glanced back at the bonfire, waiting below. Cold and inert. Or was it, she wondered, recalling the very real impulse she’d felt in merely passing close to the thing. “Heals the undead? Hollows?”

“Yes, those suffering as we do, from the curse. But once you go completely hollow even the bonfire becomes so much ash. I’ve heard there are other ways, but none so complete as to be called a cure, much as I wish it otherwise.”

“Do you know where the bonfires come from? It just looks like a hunk of metal jammed into the ground to me.”

“I’ve only heard stories, not more than whispers,” he shook his head. “Long ago a woman called a fire keeper watched over each bonfire, protecting it from those who would see it put out. Now, that duty falls on the shoulders of those who seek succor in these terrible times.”

“Fire keepers, like those three old women in the hut back that way?”

“So you’ve met them as well. I should have though so,” Saulden chuckled wryly. “Not that it matters much. Their promises are empty. No better than this sorry village.”

She was done with the man by then, and picked her way back down the steps. “I think I’ll take my leave.”

“They all do,” Saulden spoke plainly, sounding wearier than when he began. “I’ll be here, waiting, should you care for some company.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” she said over her shoulder. It was doubtful, but if the rest of Majula was this bad or worse, she might be back after all.  
Down by the bonfire, she hesitated again when confronted with the same sense of compulsion as before. But, this time she had a reason to actually touch the twisted metal. Sucking in a breath, she reached out, and no sooner had her outstretched fingertip touched the tip of the protrusion than she found herself stepping backward as a gout of flame burst up from within the ashes.

It was no ordinary blaze, she saw just as readily. Oh, it gave off heat, but also strange fluttering sparks that drifted up into the air. Sparks that floated about, dancing like fireflies and never quite fading away, merely falling back into the fire. The weariness of it all, the troubles and doubt that had crept up, bunches of stress in her neck, all of it seemed to melt away as she stared into the flames.

Before she realized, she was sitting legs crossed next to the blaze, basking in the glow. How long she’d been resting that way, she couldn’t begin to tell. Only, the shadows cast by the monolith had yet to move, so it must not have been too long.

“Welcome, bearer of the curse,” a quiet voice stated, pulling Nabiki’s attention from the dancing flames. Just on the other side of the bonfire she noticed a woman sitting on a large rock. A woman she was sure hadn’t been there before. Perhaps the traveler was more tired than she cared to admit, if she hadn’t noticed someone joining her company.

“I didn’t notice you there,” Nabiki’s attention snapped sharply to the other woman. A redhead, judging from the wavy locks spilling out from beneath the woman’s drawn hood. Clad all in green, the figure reminded Nabiki of the crones in the hut, if only for a heartbeat. The style of robe was where the comparison ended, as her skin was smooth and pale, unbeaten by the ravages of time and age.

“You seek the king, who made this land what it once was, King Vendrick. Please, take this with you, may it ease your journey,” the green robed woman tossed a glistening object through the flames toward Nabiki, who barely caught it with both hands. “Go on. I will remain here, waiting until the last shred of hope falls away.”

The young woman glanced down at the glittering vessel in her hands. It was a container of some kind, and warm to the touch. She held it up against the light of the fire, and it sloshed gently in her hands. There was liquid inside, and she could just make out how much remained. The container itself was made of chipped shards pasted together, almost like a mosaic, or a puzzle. Handmade, like almost everything she’d come across in the short time she’d been here. “I, where am I supposed to find this king?”

“Seek misery, longing, and despair. Those things will lead you on the right path. The way is paved with ever stronger souls. You must find them, otherwise meeting the King will remain but a dream.”

Furrowing her brow, Nabiki sat up, setting the flask next to her. “I don’t see how that’s supposed to help me.”

“Strong souls will be your guide, those whose names are lost, forgotten, the four who are endowed with immense souls. Once you have found them return here, lest the last shred of hope break.”

“I thought there was no hope here,” she said, keeping her smile to herself. There was little humor in it, and just a tad more patience. So these four will lead me to the king,” she asked and found herself blinking. The other woman was nowhere to be found. 

“This keeps getting better,” Nabiki groused, picking up the flask to make sure it too hadn’t up and vanished. She looped it to her belt opposite the dagger, just to be safe.

After the meeting at the bonfire, Nabiki elected to give herself a short tour of Majula. For the time being, she avoided a rather large pit that stood roughly in the center of the village. Well, she crept close enough that her eyes began to water from a terrible stench wafting out of the hole in the earth. It smelled more like a trash pit than anything else she could immediately think of. Maybe a sewer, she amended, judging from the wet looking stains on the sides of the stone that ringed the vast hole.

Rather than dwell on the purpose of the foul smelling construct, she focused on a nearby building. It was better off than some of the other structures. Most of the village was left in ruins, but the door and windows were intact here. Furthermore, the front door was ajar, and so she decided to see if someone was home after all. It wasn’t as if the village was abandoned, not with the mopey knight and the redhead lurking about. “Pardon the intrusion,” she said, giving a warning knock before sticking her head in and finding the place empty.

The place looked more like a storehouse than anything else, with little in the way of furnishings, and no bed or kitchen to be found. So, she took a few steps inside, not feeling too intrusive as it didn’t appear much lived in at all.

“Oh, what a sight we have here. Cursed no less, and unless I’m mistaken, just about ready to come apart at the seams,” a softly pleasant voice remarked from the corner of the room as she entered the run down building. Her curiosity was going to get the better of her in this place, she was sure of it.

Slightly startled, Nabiki looked around, still not finding anyone, let alone the owner of the voice. The only other thing in the room was a rather large gray cat, sunning itself just below the windowsill. Frowning, Nabiki addressed the empty room, “Hello?”

“Not many bother to take the time to chat, and with a cat no less. But, to each his own I suppose,” came the response, from the windowsill. The cat in question turned to regard its visitor with some interest glinting in its eyes. “Oh yes, you may call me Shalquoir,” the gray cat made a show of sniffing the air. “You do smell wonderful, I must say.”

“I appreciate the compliment, I think,” Nabiki replied. At least this one didn’t tell her she stank, as the knight had. Frankly, the young woman was not altogether surprised to find herself conversing with a cat. Truth be told, she felt like she’d seen stranger things. Besides, what good would it do her to be put off? None that she could find. Stay calm and rational, and one could deal with any problems that cropped up. One weird cat was the least of her concerns as a matter of fact.

“That’s good. Too many of you lot don’t even bother to stop in at all, always in so much of a hurry,” Shalquoir flicked her tail back and forth as she sat basking in the sunlight streaming in from the window. “Not that I mind too terribly either way. But, a girl does get bored, from time to time.”

While the cat was staring off at the rising dust motes caught in the light, Nabiki had the feeling she was still the object of the creature’s attention. “Haven’t seen many people around actually,” she hazarded, deciding to play along while the cat was willing.

“Just us cats, I’m afraid,” Shalquoir said, preening her long whiskers. “This place is long dead, as you surely noticed. You needn’t bother too much with it. Everything will crumble and waste away. Perhaps something new might take its place. Wouldn’t that be grand,” the cat’s tone bordered on playful, but there was a note of expectation buried there.

“And Drangleic? Is the kingdom also like this?”

“Drangleic? Oh, now that is an interesting question. Are you going to see the old ones? Surely they must have sprouted quite a thick coat of their own by now, though nothing quite so fine as this,” Shalquoir preened herself. “I’m not sure how much I recommend it,” the cat said, turning to bat a paw at the edge of the sill. “Unless, you’re fond of stirring up trouble. And you do smell like the type.”

Nabiki shrugged, letting her attention fall on the rest of the dwelling. As Shalquoir said, the place was in disrepair. A dismal thing, but not remarkable in light of the state of the village as a whole. It still looked lived in, with shelves of books, and a small box that was the sole centerpiece on the table in the middle of the floor. The box caught the woman’s attention, as it was free of the dust and grime that seemed to coat the rest of the place. It looked rather like the sort of thing that held jewelry, or other trinkets of value.

“Go on and take a look. I’d be pleased to do business, if that’s what you’ve really come here for,” the cat spoke, and leapt gracefully from the sill to alight on the tabletop. With practiced ease, Shalquoir levered open the box, resting one paw on the top of the lid as she exhibited her wares. “I can vouch for the efficacy and the quality of everything you see. Doubtless, they will be of great use. Particularly, if you’re dead set on visiting those wonderfully fragrant old ones.”

“I think I’ll have to pass,” Nabiki said, eying the assorted rings on display within the box in a perfect line. As the cat implied, all of the craftsmanship on display was impeccable, and none of the rings bore any tarnish, or signs of spotting. Silver, or some other precious metal, she decided. All well beyond her means, as the traveler was utterly broke. She wasn’t about to try and trade in her dagger. It was doubtful the value was comparable in the first place. So she just shook her head.

“Nothing suited you I presume, well that's dismaying,” the cat remarked, letting the lid fall shut on her treasures.

“Maybe another time,” Nabiki hazarded. The rings hadn’t seemed ordinary decorations, and that was all the more obvious the moment the box snapped shut. There had been an aura, some thrum of power that she couldn’t explain coming from the items within. “These old ones, where can I find them,” she said, putting the box and its contents from her mind for the moment. Other more pressing questions needed answering, and as long as the cat wasn’t going to vanish on her, it would be prudent to ask just in case.

“Oh, pick a road dear. You’re bound to run into them, all too soon, I imagine. If you have need of a guide, well, I’m sure that sad excuse for a fellow bumbling about the monument will be willing to let you hear his share of woes. Just don’t blame me if you lose your pluck afterward,” the cat finished, curling around the box.

“I see. Thank you for the advice,” Nabiki replied, understanding the cat’s opinion on the matter quite well, still she supposed it wouldn’t hurt to speak to Saulden once more. The man knew quite a lot, for having such a cowardly disposition. She gave a small bow and took her leave of the strange cat and its curious wares. As she left, she heard the cat’s distinct voice calling after, “I'll be around, if you ever come back.”

Nabiki made her way over to the steps that led to the base of the edifice on the cliff. As expected, the knight was still drowning in his own woes at the top, where she’d left him. Fighting the urge to roll her eyes, she climbed the stairs, taking her time and eventually sat down a comfortable space away from the man.  
The figure in question looked up as the young woman made herself a home on the steps. “You’ve returned. No surprise that you didn’t get far. This is a terrible place, after all.”

She shook her head, “I’m here about the old ones. I was told you know where I might find them.”

Saulden shook his head, likely dismayed at her decision. “The old ones? Oh, them,” his voice trembled more than it had before. “There are four souls in Drangleic, beings with great power, and terrible curses tormenting them. I’ve given up on meeting them, but if you have the courage,” he trailed off.

It was all she could do not to just shake the man out of his depressing stupor. Instead, she sighed, “So I heard. What I need to know, is where specifically to find them. Quitting is something I can decide afterward.”

The morose knight raised a gloved hand, pointing to the left of where she’d first exited the caverns on the way into Majula. “Do you see the way beyond the bonfire? That path down into the mountain leads to a great expanse of woodland. Judging from the ruins thereabout the place held a fort of some size, though little of its former glory is left. Perhaps there is something of use within those crumbling walls, though I wouldn’t go too far inside.”

Looking down along the way the knight indicated, she could see a path running along the side of the cliff. She hadn’t been able to see it from the top, but there was a way down, and it led into the mountain through what looked to be the ruins of a carved gateway. It bore looking into, that much was sure. “I take it you’ve been there personally.”

“Well, not as such. At least, not all the way to the fort. There were, complications, you see. But, the path is sound that much I can assure you. Beyond the entrance down that way, lies a cavern, with an underground stream. A great beast lives there, and I was unable to dispatch it. I could only return to the bonfire, and so here I am.” 

“That’s not much to go on,” she prodded, staring at the man hard. She needed concrete answers, not half guesses, and woeful tales of defeat. This man had an utter lack of confidence, and it was just as bad as the opposite, which bothered her even more. “What if I go with you,” and cheer you on from the sidelines, she mentally added.

“Then we’d both perish, and I don’t want that on my conscience. There’s nothing for it,” he lamented, but then stopped short. “There is a way, if it’s help you seek. The journey of an undead is long and treacherous, you’ll face invaders from other worlds at every turn, not merely the beasts roaming this place. Why not proclaim faith in the blue sentinels? Protection is yours if you wish, as the blue sentinels watch over us in their benevolence,” the knight finished his sermon, bowing his head and clasping his hands toward the heavens. 

“Blue sentinels? What are they? Knights, like you,” a hint of derision crept into her voice. This was too much, if he was serious. The last thing she needed was a gaggle of mopey bastards following her around.

“You are right to be cautious, but in times of need they come to those requesting aid. Take this, if you should ever be found so wanting,” he said, handing her a ring with an appropriately blue stone affixed to the top.

Nabiki accepted the ring, holding it up to inspect it more carefully. It was small, like it might actually fit on one of her fingers. She was surprised to find that similar to the rings in the cat’s collection, it felt as if some promise lie in its making. “You’re just giving it to me like that? What’ll you do then?”

The knight fashioned a rare tired smile, “Oh, I have my own.” He fingered a bit of silvered links around his neck. The ring in question still safely tucked within his tunic. “Parting with that one will not trouble me any greater.”

“Then, I appreciate the gift,” Nabiki said.

“I pray you have no cause to use it, but I doubt that will be the case,” he finished, resting his chin on one hand.

“And, those signs you mentioned before, those will help too?”

“Ah, the ones on the ground. Yes, but they are fickle, at the whims of another place and time. You would do well not to rely on them being where they are most needed. That was another of my failings, to be sure,” the gloomy knight sighed.

Nabiki frowned, if there was truth in half of what this sad sack was saying, she was hedging her bets in the wrong direction. Just the same, trusting in hearsay wasn’t her style. There was nothing for it but to judge for herself, beast or no beast. Besides, this guy was probably scared of the talking cat. Trusting his sense would only get her stuck here, watching the rocks grown moss. Not an appealing fate in the slightest. “There’s no one else here that might be willing to lend help to a lady in need?”

The knight seemed to be thinking on the matter before he hesitantly replied. “The blacksmith seems a reliable sort. Though indisposed at the moment. Seems to have been locked out of his home for some time now,” Saulden motioned to the structure just around the bend from the base of the stairs. “The armorer on the other hand, I do not believe he would stray far from his shop were you to pay him to do so. He is a frail looking sort,” coming from Saulden the judgement was a rather harsh.

“That’s it? No one else in this entire village? Isn’t this some sort of haven?”

“That is all, I am afraid,” Saulden sank his shoulders, then perked up a moment later, “Well, there is one more, I suppose. A sturdy sort who trekked off into the hills. I told him the way was blocked, but he wouldn’t listen to reason. There is no way to get through into the castle, not anymore. I haven’t seen him since.”

Near the armorer’s shop that Saulden pointed out, there was another path, running parallel to the place leading back to the fire keepers hut. The angle was bad from the steps, but she could see the way up. “That goes to the castle?”

“Castle Drangleic, yes. Or it once did. There was another bridge too, but it fell to ruin many ages ago. Now, the only way to the kingdom is through there, and it is most assuredly sealed.”

“When did that man leave,” she asked, a small glimmer of hope forming in the back of her mind.

“Some time ago, but it could as easily have been this morning. Who knows? Time here is a difficult thing to truly reckon. A skill beyond mine, surely. But, it must have been recently, because he can only come back this way. Moving forward is quite impossible up that path.”

“There is a chance he is still trying to get to the castle?”

“Indeed, where else would he have gone? Perhaps he has decided to wait, as I do.”

Nabiki mulled over the knight’s words. “How will I know him, if I see him,” the young woman asked, feeling surer of her plan by the second. Someone heading toward Drangleic, alone. Surely this was fate.

The knight folded his hands with an audible clink of metal on metal. “You can’t mistake him. Quite the large fellow, carting about a glowing blade, of all things. You’ll know him by the sword, or not at all. Luck be with you,” he added as the woman dusted herself off and started down the steps for a final time.

Nabiki gave a half-hearted wave without looking back. The knight was not fun to be around for any long stretch, and the last thing she wanted to see was his sad eyes before she left the village. Locating the sturdy fellow that Saulden mentioned ended up being no real task, thankfully for once. Nabiki followed the vague directions and as it turned out, the path up into the hills was as straight as one could hope. 

The place was a thinly wooded area, and there was only one path, cutting through the trees and flanked by sharp embankments that rose up on either side. A mix of dry and freshly fallen leaves crunched underfoot as she made her way. The air was cooler here, and crisp, almost stingingly so. It felt as if that calm ocean view was hours away rather than the fifteen minute hike that it had taken.

As the knight had intimated, the path came to a clear and abrupt end, blocked of by thick heavy stonework. The building loomed large, perhaps three stories high, cutting right into the hillside where it curved around. The wooden door at the base of the structure was open, so she was surprised to find her quarry sitting quietly beneath the shade of a tree just outside the towering building.

Saulden might have been understating the man’s considerable size, as seated, Nabiki was almost able to look him in the eye. The glowing blade too, was a formidable thing, broad like its wielder. Her long dagger was a letter opener in comparison. Already, she felt she’d made the right choice. All that was left was to persuade the warrior to accompany her.

Unlike the knight by the monument, this man had no sense of defeat about him. Though he could as easily have been napping when she arrived, for all the care he exhibited. Nabiki made a show of crunching the leaves as she approached. No need to startle the man and risk getting cleaved in half for her troubles.  
As she grew close enough to talk comfortably, the bulk beneath the tree stirred. Now, her opinion slightly changed, and she could see that while the man was certainly sizable, most of that impression came from the thick shoulder pads of his armor. Parts of the ensemble were lined with fur, and lent the impression that she was waking a bear, which struck her as oddly humorous. Some memory, vague and fleeting, of a similar man rose up only to slip through her grasp when she tried to hold onto it.

The warrior’s bushy brows poked out from beneath the rim of his helmet at Nabiki’s approach, and he reached one mitt up to scratch at his trimmed growth of beard. “Have you business with me?” 

“Thought this was supposed to be shut,” she said, gesturing to the doorway.

“Aye, that’s right. The way on in is blocked up you see by this godawful statue. Heavens above, who thought it a good idea to put it there,” unlike the lady in green or the knight, the fellow’s accent was thick.

“So, you’re waiting here for,” Nabiki eyed the door. She couldn’t see any statue, which meant he was talking about another door, inside the building. She would have to see for herself, especially if this was the only way left to get into the kingdom.

“Well, I can’t just move it myself. It’s in a bad spot, and I’m in quite the pickle now. Besides, I’m not ashamed to admit that statue gives me the willies. You stare at it long enough it starts to look alive. Feel free to take a peek yourself.”

Nabiki nodded, “I think I will.”

“But, take a care. There’s a beastie or two lurking about. Managed to lock up one of the buggers that got loose, but they’re a feisty lot. Stink to high heavens, as if they weren’t bad enough from the start.”

That gave her pause, and dampened the desire to check out the so called statue. “You said the others are already locked up?”

“That they are. Must not be too bright either, those doors are nearly rotted right through. Take a care, and be quiet about it. You should be able to pop in and back out before they get their knickers in a bunch. It’s right inside, so long as you’re only taking a peek.”

“Thanks for the advice,” she replied, finding her hand straying to the hilt of her dagger. Erring on the side of caution, she drew the weapon and held it at the ready. Which amounted to keeping the pointy end away from her body. Just thinking of stabbing anything already made her gut churn, however if it was either that or rolling over to die, she would make due.

She’d been worried that it would be dark inside the building, but her fears were somewhat allayed as the place was constructed without a ceiling. The walls however were high enough that most of the remaining sunlight was blocked, covering the interior with dim shadows. Like the outer structure, the inside was little more than a ring, devoid of obstructions. There were twin doors on her right and left, built into the interior walls of the circular building, and the warrior wasn’t wrong as to the poor state the wood was in.

The overall feeling of the place left her with the impression that it was intended as an arena, or maybe a very sizable corral. A landing ran the length of the ring higher up, creating a second floor that she couldn’t really see up onto from where she stood. Across the open space, she found what had to be the real door leading to Drangleic. It was huge, and more of an iron barred gate than anything else she’d come across. In the poor lighting she could just make out a human figure standing to the right of the gate, carved of gray stone.

Already, she was regretting her decision to investigate the door. Only a few steps in and the smell was getting to her. It was an animal stench, a mixture of sweat and shit that hung heavy in the air. But, it wasn’t just that. She could hear them too, whatever these beasties were that had been locked up. She eyed the doors with no small alarm, because the sound of shuffled footsteps and labored breathing came from behind them. Debating her options, she crept as quietly as possible toward the statue.

Nabiki’s effort was rewarded as she crossed the open floor without incident. Reaching the carved figure, she found it was in the likeness of a woman, maybe a little taller than herself, and barely clothed. The statue was literally blocking any effort to pass the gate, because its hands were carved right onto the mechanism in the wall that likely served to open the great door. 

She began to understand the swordsman’s dilemma. This really was the worst place to put a statue, she sighed, and poked at the handle imbedded in the wall to see if it might move at all. It didn’t. “Well, shit,” she groused.

Apparently, her comment was louder than intended, or the place just had great acoustics, because a growl from the door on the right echoed in response. She wanted to pretend it was coincidence, but the wood of the door shook violently as it was hammered at from within. Glancing down at her dagger, and then at the distance to the open entrance, she made a decision. Run.

Nabiki barely reached the halfway point before shards of wood were sent flying as the door broke down. Somehow the smell became worse, gut rending actually, and she pumped her legs, boots slapping the flagstones underfoot. There was about equal distance to the front door between herself and the thing that burst free from its entrapment. She still had a chance, if it was as lacking in speed as it was purported to be in wits.

She made it through into fresh air and didn’t stop until she’d passed the waiting warrior. “Right behind me,” she gasped, wheeling to face the threat. It might have bought more time had she been able to close the door behind her, but that wasn’t an option now as the thing she’d riled up spilled through the doorway.

“That’s a nasty bugger. Think he’s taken a shine to you, lass.” The warrior gained his feet, moving swiftly for all his armor must weight. “Make sure none of ‘em are skulking about, and I’ll send this one back to the hell he crawled out of.” The warrior brought the gleaming blue sword to bear, as the creature stepped out into the dappled sunlight that filtered down through the trees.

For her part, Nabiki was more than fine with keeping watch, and the thought of more of the eye watering beasts sent her stomach churning all over again. If those things were swarming the hills, she had no idea how the big guy had been content to nap so close to danger. Maybe he wasn’t all there to begin with.  
The thing was vaguely humanoid, in that it had two legs, arms and a head. There the resemblance should have ended, with its mottled green and yellowed skin. It looked like someone come down with a bad case of jaundice, and had decided to take a dip in the sewer just to kick things off. The worse though, was its bulging, distended stomach.

Its fleshy paunch swung back and forth like a pendulum with each step, and the sigh was made worse by the contrast of its spindly arms and legs. Wet and encrusted eyes peered out at the duo from within a sunken face. Whatever horror that Nabiki had envisioned behind that door, it wasn’t half as wretched as the truth.

“Smells worse than it looks,” the broad shouldered man chuckled. 

Nabiki didn’t quite see the same humor in the situation, and deadpanned, “Can’t that sword of yours just cut it in half and be done with it?”

“Aye, and get that stink all over me in the process. I’d rather not if it’s the same to you. Hard to come by a decent place to wash up.”

“Which is why you locked it up in the first place,” she hazarded, making sense of what the man said.

“You’ve the right of it, lass. Watch out now, it has a habit of spitting when it gets up close,” the big man grunted over his shoulder and leveled the great blade in one hand, and covered behind his round wooden shield.

The gangly beast lunged as the warrior hefted his equipment, but was batted aside at the last second, sending the creature stumbling backwards. The big man took advantage of the opening, and kicked it hard in the chest so that the thing skid into the dirt and leaves. “Nothing but skin and bones, and stink.”

Gurgling noisily, the creature righted itself and hissed, trying to circle around toward the warrior’s flank. But, he was having none of that and kept his back toward the tree he’d been resting under. The beast had no choice but to come at him head on. When it did, it caught a face full of shield for all the trouble. As it stumbled sideways, the great blade came thundering down, and caught the thing in the shoulder, cleaving flesh and bone all the same.

The weight of the attack brought the ruined creature crashing to the dirt, and the foul smelling spatter of its guts spilled harmlessly onto the leaves beneath. “That’s one way to go about it,” the swordsman grunted, satisfied with the outcome.

Surprisingly, the felled body didn’t remain as it was for very long. Nabiki’s eyes widened as motes of light lifted from the carcass and swirled about in the air. The sight was similar to the swirls back at the bonfire, only these began moving much faster. Before she could ask what was happening, the tiny glowing orbs split into two streams, one flowing into the swordsman, and the other catching her in the chest before she could do more than take a step backward.  
The motes disappeared on impact, and a slow warmth spread through her body. Her scarf hid most of her shock, but she questioned it just the same. “What the hell just happened?”

“Souls, lass. And none too shabby, for such a skinny bastard. You’d do well to gather more. Use them as you see fit, easy as can be. Only, you’ve got to stick a few buggers to get the good stuff. Make use of that butter knife you’ve got there,” the man said with a good natured chuckle.

“I take it you saw the statue. It doesn't seem quite right, does it? There are no craftsmen around these parts,” he continued, taking the time to clean his sword once he decided that no more threats would be pouring out of the doorway.

“It’s blocking the lever. Someone went through the trouble of putting a lot of detail in a piece that clearly isn’t decorative. A block of stone would have served the same purpose. Seems like a big waste to me.”

“There’s another possibility. I hate to even consider it,” the man shivered. “You don’t think a person was turned to stone, do you?”

Nabiki sheathed her dagger as she thought about it. It wasn’t beyond the realm of possibility, what with talking cats and cracks in the sky. She settled for shrugging. “Have you heard of that happening often?”

“No, but I’ve seen other statues, frozen in agony. Word is there’s a beastie that might do such a thing to a man. You might have heard of it, some folks call it a basilisk, big arse lizard if word is anything to go by around these parts. I’ve had fortune enough not to bump into one, but luck can only hold so long. Particularly here,” he glanced in the direction of the statue blocking the gate. “Name’s Benhart, of Jugo.”

“Nabiki Tendou. Thanks, for taking care of that thing.”

“It’s no problem, but you’re welcome just the same. Should have done it in from the start,” the big man nodded.

“So, what are you going to do now? Stick around here until the statue falls apart on its own,” she asked, putting reality back into perspective. At least, as it seemed to stand in this place.

“I don’t rightly know. I’d set out to perfect my swordsmanship, journeyed here from the distant east. Didn’t occur to me that my travel would be so easily thwarted.”

“You’re headed to Drangleic then.”

“You’ve the right of it,” he looked around at the ruined structure, and the slain corpse. “This lands a right mess, kings gone and the people have a mad glint in their eyes. The land itself is overrun by terrible beasts, no better place to test my sword, eh?”

“In that case, we should find a way to get rid of that statue, person or not. And these souls, there are things with bigger, stronger ones. Ones that supposedly can lead the way to our mutual goal. I would think there is plenty to test yourself against along the way. And it beats just sitting on your butt here, getting rustier by the minute.”

Benhart secured his blade and scratched at his beard. “Can’t deny you have a point there, lass. This is no place to swing my sword. I was just having a short rest, is all. If you’ve got a plan in mind, then by all means. It’s high time to start moving along.”

“Then we’re agreed, Benhart of Jugo,” Nabiki smiled as one thing seemed to be finally panning out the way she wanted.

“Agreed, Nabiki Tendou,” the big man stretched out his arm and the leather clad traveler responded in kind. Though the handshake she half expected turned into a clasping of forearms instead.

Decided, the duo made their way back down through the pass and into Majula proper, with Nabiki leading the way, and Benhart just behind and to the side. The warrior’s presence was both reassuring, and a tool that she fully intended to make use of as she saw fit. For the time being, there was no reason not to proceed according to the promise, especially if their paths led to the same destination. This was better than hired muscle, she decided. Mostly because it didn’t cost her more than her word, and that was a bargain that she was not going to let pass her by.

Besides, she’d seen what the man could do in a pinch, and it far outclassed both her own meagre skill, and the dagger in her possession. These souls, she clearly needed them to get by in this place, and if she could get her hands on more, without risking her skin in the process, all the better in her book.

“Where to, lass,” the big man boomed as they made their way to the end of the path that opened into the center of the village.

Nabiki flicked an arm toward the closest building to the left of the great stinking pit. “We should see if there’s anything worth picking up before we leave.”

“A sound bit of advice,” he concurred, trundling after the smaller figure as she made her way to the ramshackle building. Both travelers skirted well away from the gaping hole in the center of the village. No need to tempt the gods, as it were. Nabiki was the first inside, whereas Benhart barely squeezed his bulk through the door frame.

There was only a single person in the place, they found. But at their arrival, the man perked right up, likely at the prospect of making a sale. “Uh, hello there. Welcome to my shop, such as it is. I’m Maughlin, and I sell armor, after a fashion. Sorry, I,” he winced. “Please have a look at my wares. I could really use the business, if you'd be so kind,” the shop’s proprietor stated as the pair entered. He glanced up at them from his makeshift seat atop a chest that had clearly seen better days. Like the merchant himself.

Nabiki took the man up on his offer, casting about the dimly lit interior. There was precious little that appealed to her, or even looked like it might fit in the first place. The wall behind the thin man was covered in bits of armor, two or three sets that looked as if they might actually match, and several shields that appeared functional, if not slightly scratched and dented. The poor lighting made it hard to tell for sure on the quality of the merchandise, and she decided it was a good decision on the armorer’s part to arrange the display as he had.

Of course, that also meant the young woman was less than inclined to look over the gear in the first place. If the seller had no faith in his wares, why should she trust her own safety to any of it? Besides, she amended, the shields looks outrageously large, and unwieldy, all the more so given her slight frame. She doubted that she would be able to take more than a few steps in any of the armor as well, if it even fit in the first place.

Each piece looked to have been crafted with bulkier wearers in mind. “Is this all you have,” she said at length, once she was satisfied with her assessment. While she had admittedly little experience appraising functional body armor, the middle Tendou daughter was versed in quality and potential value. Little of either was present here, to her slight dismay. More care had gone into crafting the outfit she currently wore, and it was admittedly comfortable. For the time being, it would continue to do.

“Unfortunately yes,” Maughlin answered, his gaze flickering almost imperceptibly toward the back of the shop. It appeared to be an involuntary reaction, but Nabiki made note of it just the same.

The armorer seemed to wilt under the attention of the two customers, and continued talking to fill the otherwise silent air. “I came from the west, from Volgin. Have you been there,” he asked, but trailed off as there was no recognition in either patron’s expression. “It’s quite vibrant with trade, or was in the past. I left home in hopes of striking gold.”

Something in the man’s words must have pricked Benhart’s attention, because the man spoke up, thick accent booming in the small space, “Gold, you say. In Drangleic? I’ve heard tale of Dragons, true enough.”

“There were rumors, clearly unfounded as you might have guessed,” he sighed, folding his hands in his lap. “It’s been years since then, I don’t even know why I’m still here. Chasing after a dream, a dead one at that,” he sighed, making a show of it as he slumped in his seat.

“A group calling themselves Blue Sentinels have gained great power in Volgin, of late. That might be part of why I left, truth be told. Riches are all fine and well, but only if you’re alive to enjoy it.”

Nabiki caught herself giving a faint nod in agreement, “These Blue Sentinels have a problem with merchants?” She thought of the ring in her pocket and wondered if the group was one and the same as Saulden’s vaunted protectors. If so, arranging a meeting was looking more profitable by the second.

“Only ones that are indebted, I suppose,” Maughlin managed a weak grin.

“So, you’re on the run from debt collectors,” she asked, wondering the depth of this man’s financial woes. She had too little information, and anything that seemed useful, she would do well to turn to her own benefit.

The armorer’s grin faltered, but he laughed anyway, pulling a faded cloth from his pocket to wipe at his brow. “That’s a tale in its own right. Not fit for ears so fine,” he said. “And speaking of,” he leaned forward, waving the small cloth toward the much broader customer. “I can tell there is a story behind that beauty there.”

Benhart furrowed his brow, the motion moving his helm ever so slightly forward. He was prepared to be insulted in some manner, but then it dawned on him, given the man’s occupation. “I see the old sword’s caught your attention,” he puffed out his chest. “You’ve a good eye then, they say it’s crafted with moonlight,” he leaned forward as his voice lowered, just above a whisper, “and you know that that means, it wards off evil. They say that no man's ever teased out its true power, but in the right hands,” the big man flexed his mitts, armored gloves creaking with the sudden stress.

Maughlin found himself leaning backward at the display. “Yes, the sword. Moonlight you say? I’d wager it should fetch a tidy sum,” he hazarded.

“Aye that it might. But, it would be of no use to be then, would it? A sword’s meant for battle, not to be hanging on a wall, like your crumbling display there,” the big man stood back, folding his arms. “Don’t let it cross your mind, and we’ve not got a problem, you understand?”

“Perfectly,” the thin man stammered, cowed but clearly no less interested in the blade that Benhart carried. “I take it you won’t be purchasing any of my wares, then?”

“Not hardly, lad. Maybe if you get yourself a proper setup, then we’ll talk business. Until then, you’ve got precious little to interest me,” the large man countered, glancing over at his new traveling companion. “Or the lass, it seems.” 

“I see,” Maughlin lamented, before perking up slightly, “If you happen upon any items of value out there, I'll be more than happy to purchase it from you. For the right price, of course.”

“The right price,” Nabiki cut in, as she made a point of picking at some slight imperfection on the finger of one of her gloves. “That sounds negotiable. I’ll keep it in mind. And, should we happen upon these Blue Sentinels?”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Maughlin chuckled weakly, suddenly aware that he would need to be choosy about his words around this particular traveler. “Surely we can reach an agreement beneficial to both parties.”

The Tendou girl nodded, smirking beneath her scarf. “I’m sure you’ll be seeing me again, should I find something worth both our time,” Nabiki made a show of looking around the shop once more before turning to leave. “Let’s go, Mister Jugo. We’ve got a forest to explore.”

“Aye, lead the way, lass,” the broad shouldered warrior cleared the doorway to wait outside, keeping a sure grip on the haft of the blade that had so interested the vendor. He could understand appreciation for fine craftsmanship, but that man had a look in his eye that spoke volumes. Desire. Benhart would no sooner part with the heirloom, than the armorer likely wished to part with his own head. For that would be the outcome, should the shifty little bugger be after Benhart’s weapon. Or the big man’s word was no more than mud.


	4. Forest of the Fallen

Sounds of rushing water greeted the pair as they made it past the gate that ultimately barred the path between Majula and the lands beyond. Nabiki had taken the morose knight’s advice and led her newfound compatriot down along the cliff side and into what might have once been a guard post. The way down was lined with broken and crumbling pillars, and eventually stonework laid into the mountainside. It might have once been a cavern in the distant past, but the hand of mankind had laid order, brick by brick.

Despite the protective clothing that both wore, there was a chill to the air that caught with each breath. Nabiki’s leather boots slid on the slick stones underfoot, echoing in the dim interior as they searched for the means to gain access to the forest. But, thankfully, they didn’t have to look far, as they came upon two solid gates set into the farthest wall. “Looks like the same kind of door the statue was blocking,” Nabiki remarked, grateful for the light of the torch that Benhart had brought along.

The big man nodded, “That means this here should do the trick,” he pointed the flame at a handle set into the stonework near the door. “You want to give it a go?”

Nabiki eyed the wide handle, “You’ve got the light,” she cracked her knuckles and put both hands on the thick switch, giving it an experimental tug, to little effect. “Heavy,” she grunted, planting one foot on the wall for support as she leaned back, straining to budge the mechanism. “Who built this,” she spit out between tugs, and was rewarded with a loud click coming from within the wall as the handle slid toward her from its housing.

“Never doubted you,” Benhart chuckled as the gate began sliding upward to reveal a much darker passage beyond.

“The next one is all yours, big guy,” the leather clad woman said as she took a moment to shake off the ache in her shoulders. Beyond the gate, she could hear the sound of dripping water, and the chill was more pronounced. “This better be leading out.”

“Aye, though the work might do you a bit of good,” Benhart smiled beneath his helm as he headed forward, pushing back the gloom with the help of the flickering flame. “A stiff breeze might well send you flying into the sky, and I’d be without a partner.”

The young woman just shook her head, passing beneath the gate as it began to slide shut once more. “I prefer to keep my figure, if it’s all the same to you,” she paused, pressing at one of her arms. “Could stand a little improvement, I suppose, if I’m going to be swinging this blade around.”

“That’s half the battle,” the heavyset man replied sagely as they continued on down the sloping path. Eventually, the source of the dripping came into view as the tunnel widened, walls giving way to natural rock formations and an underground pool of water that flowed from elsewhere in the cave.

They crossed a rickety bridge over the water, and found the tunnel curving around past the pool toward a point of bright light in the distance. “Think that is the way,” Benhart asked, gesturing to the far off light source.

“It’s going to have to be, unless you plan on taking a swim,” Nabiki eyed the slowly flowing water with distain. It was cold enough in the cave to begin with, and she didn’t relish a dip for no reason.

“Onward it is then,” the sword carrying man said with more cheer in his voice than the prospect warranted. Of course, the alternative path was a sobering thought, and one he likely would rather avoid as well. “Much as I could use a bracing soak, I’m sure the opportunity will arise again and in more agreeable surroundings.”

Nabiki shook her head at his optimism, which he seemed to at least be realistic about. A dank cavern wasn’t her idea of suitable bathing accommodations either. Besides, she couldn’t even see into the water, and there was no telling what assorted company an intrepid bather might find lurking in the depths. “Come on, let’s go. Hopefully, it’s warmer wherever this is taking us.”

“Aye, I’ll second that,” the torch bearer said, picking his way along the slick rocks that littered the path they’d chosen. The stones were negotiable, and soon smoothed out into a proper path that had been hewn right into the rock, either by the underground river shifting course, or more likely a lot of human time and effort, given the gated ruin they’d just passed through.

Eventually, the bright light grew in size, until they were close enough to make out what it was, an exit to the caverns leading outside. The flow of water was louder as they stepped into the sunlight, taking a moment to adjust to the change from the nearly dark caves. It was as Saulden said, Nabiki realized from the landscape, which was green with moss covered stones, and bountiful foliage. A lush woodland, long removed from the influence of burgeoning civilization.

The cave mouth opened alongside a shallow coursing river, the sound which had been echoing the whole while, now in plain sight. Along the river, a wide bank curved around to the left, hugging a wooded hillside too steep to climb. The far bank was just as impassable, leaving the only recourse to follow the meandering river.

Here, the sunlight was ample, though filtered through the thin canopy of foliage overhead. The result was dappled shade, which flickered and wavered along the ground as a mild breeze rustled the top of the trees high above. That very same shade acted as natural camouflage Nabiki discovered, her eyes nearly skipping over a very important detail as she stood marveling at the picturesque landscape. “What the hell is that,” she hissed, grabbing at the fur ringed armor around Benhart’s shoulders, tugging to get his attention.

Benhart kept quiet as he spotted what had alarmed the young woman. It was standing nearly in the middle of the river, looking so much as a hefty gray boulder, or easily mistaken as such if it weren’t slowly rising up and down, expanding and contracting with long slow heavy breaths. The beast was easily twice the size of the swordsman, in girth and height. It was hunched over, facing away from the duo, thankfully.

Even from a distance, he could just make out a terrible crunching sound, and soon enough the behemoth moved one of its slab-like arms, tossing away a chunk of metal that glistened red and wet in the few shafts of sunlight playing across the surface of the water. “We should go, while it’s occupied,” he said out of the corner of his mouth, lest anything louder disturb the ponderous bulk from its meal.

Hand tight on the dagger at her waist, Nabiki nodded, more than fine with the suggestion. Thankful for the supple leather boots, she crept along the embankment watching for any sign that the beast might stir.

As they reached the beginning of the curve in the river, she could make out more of the gargantuan bulk’s features, catching it in profile. It became apparent then, how even nearby they’d escaped the thing’s peripheral vision. Engaged as it was, chewing into what had probably once been an armor clad human torso, the creature’s single cyclopean eye was closed in concentration as it teased out whatever scraps it desired.

Loathsome as the sight was, the Japanese woman found familiarity in the beast’s appearance, more akin to a bipedal hippopotamus than anything else. She drew little to no comfort from the mental comparison, especially given its meal of choice.

Breathing a sigh of relief as they rounded the curve, still cognizant of the threat to their rear, the pair’s caution ultimately led to them walking right into danger of a different sort. Benhart’s sword was in hand sooner than Nabiki could do more than give a startled gasp upon nearly running smack into a group of figures, all human to outward appearances.

The quartet stirred at the interruption, two rising from what had to be uncomfortable seated positions amid an upturned root jutting from the bank, and the others merely standing slack jawed. All four of the figures were clad in quilted armor, in various states of disarray. The best looking of the bunch would have passed for a derelict in more civilized times. All bore graying bloated flesh, and fixed the two unwitting intruders with cataract white gazes.

“Hollows,” the swordsman bit out, swinging his blade before the first decrepit soldier had the chance to do more than stumble forward on one stained and worn out boot. The glowing blade whistled through the air, shearing a great furrow in the chest of the undead figure, knocking it spinning to the ground with the force of the blow. That succeeded in riling up the remaining trio, two of whom were armed with rusty hatchets, while the last was barehanded but not seeming to care as it flexed bony fingers in anticipation of rending the duo limb from limb should it get the chance.

Roaring inarticulately, the second hollow charged, axe high in hand as it leapt forward with all its weight bearing down to chop at the helmeted warrior. Benhart stepped back nimbly for a man his size, narrowly avoiding a blow that buried the head of the axe into the soft loam of the bank. Taking advantage of the opening, the great blue blade hummed through the air a second time, as its wielder thrust it into the exposed head and shoulder of the axe man.

For her part, Nabiki drew steel to defend herself from the advance of the other two hollows, moving to the side to keep the undead bumping into one another as they ambled toward her. The one holding the axe apparently grew tired of his fellow’s perceived ineptitude and shoved blindly at the unarmed hollow, sending it rolling down the embankment to fall into the river with a splash.

“Shit,” Nabiki winced, not willing to risk a glance over her shoulder to see if the great beast had noticed the commotion. The possibility hammered at her heart, and she elected to finish her foe off before worse came. The axe that whipped at her chest was parried with a stiff arm as she slid inside the hollow’s swing, leading with her dagger aimed at its unguarded throat. Even with the rotting cloth armor, she didn’t want to trust her fate to strength that might not be up to the task of penetrating into the thing’s gut. Assuming that such a wound would prove fatal to decayed flesh in the first place, though Benhart’s sword seemed to have no issue felling the former humans.

Clattering to the ground from loose fingers, the falling axe gave some indication as to the effectiveness of her chosen target, and the hollow rolled off Nabiki’s shoulder as it too collapsed from the grievous wound she’d inflicted. Three sets of souls floated into the air, the departed bodies collapsed lifeless once more as sharp blades did their job. The third hollow floundered in the water, almost righting itself before a dark shadow eclipsed the shaded sun. A chest thumping roar split the air, signaling the ire of the roused beast, as it thundered through the ankle deep water with ease, layers of rotund flesh shuddering as it trampled over the hapless soldier, rendering it a stain on the riverbed in an instant.

“Might be able to outrun it,” Benhart shouted, as the beast was already rounding on the surviving pair of interlopers. Clearly it had no qualms mashing anything and anyone that entered its territory, be they friend or foe. The swordsman felt a hint of sweat trickle down his brow as a single fist sized eye alit on his person, and the beast’s wide fleshy maw trembled with another bellow. “Shite, the beastie is quick on its toes,” he said, rolling to the side away from the water as the Ogre thundered out of the river, clearing the space between before the man could do more to react.

The ponderous weight of the creature smashed into the steeper hill before it could stop its gathered momentum. Stunned, the cyclopean behemoth fell back onto its rear, mildly dazed from the impact.

Nabiki was already dashing toward the beast before it could recover. Seated as it was, she came at it from behind, planting her knees on its shoulders and steadying herself on the broad neck, all so she could drive the dagger hilt deep into the Ogre’s unguarded eye. The move sent the thing into a frenzy, as it thrashed about, eventually rolling flat on its back. Luckily, the sudden commotion tossed the slight woman clear off.

Hitting the ground hard, Nabiki managed to limply slide down toward the water, only suffering a few bruised ribs for her effort. The dagger was still lodged where she’d left it, as she found while coaxing the air back into her lungs. Coughing, she got halfway to her feet to see the swordsman chopping mightily at the floundering animal as it tried to dig out the offending metal from its head. Thrashing about as it was, the handle of the lost weapon made for a tempting target, one that Benhart struck with the flat of his heavy heirloom blade, driving Nabiki’s weapon past the pulpy mess of ocular nerves and into the recesses of the beast’s skull.

The thrashing stopped almost immediately upon contact, and only a few tremors and muscle spasms remained as a huge blob of beast soul slid free of the mortal coil, splitting in the quiet forest air to drift unerringly toward the two victors.

“Well, this old heart’s beating like a drum,” the swordsman bent over to retrieve the errant dagger from its grisly sheath. “Nothing like a bit of afternoon exercise to get the blood pumping proper.” He wiped off most the gore from the blade, and went over to check on the winded woman.

Weapon retrieved, Nabiki finally stood up of her own accord, and cast about the river, making sure there were no further threats lying in wait. “That was dumb luck, and we both know it. But, it’s done now, and I’d rather things turn out the way they did, than have that damn thing chasing us all over the forest.” Taking a moment’s breather, she cleaned her blade off in the running water, drying it on one of the hollow’s quilted shirts for good measure before sheathing the blade properly at her hip. “You know, I don’t blame Saulden for not wanting to come here.”

“Aye, and it seems we’ve still got quite the ways to go,” Benhart replied, as he pointed to a moss and vine encrusted tower on the far side of the river. Just up the way, they could see a wooden footbridge spanning the shallow waters, one that led right to the base of their supposed destination. High above, even reaching over the walls of the top of the tower, the canopy of a huge tree hung ominously, as good a landmark as anything else. “We should go before we start to lose light.”

“It actually gets dark here?” Nabiki asked as they crossed the bridge, and clambered along the twisting slope that led to the base of the tower.

“In some places it seems to,” Benhart said, shouldering the heavy blade, as he too anxiously watched the top of the tower for further sign of trouble. They reached the end of the path upward, and found that the base of the tower was open to the elements, a hole caved into the wall, just big enough for them both to enter side by side. It was dim in the interior, but empty aside from a few busted wooden crates, and a ladder secured to the wall that led upward through another gap in the masonry overhead. Sunlight streamed down, filtered through the hole and the treetop they could just make out through the high gap. “After you,” the swordsman insisted, “in case the way up becomes the quick way back down under my hefty boots,” he said to assuage any forthcoming complaints.

The scarfed woman shook her head at the mental image that particular outcome generated. It wasn’t pretty, and would end up with her likely crushed on the ground under the bearded man’s armored bulk. Not a pleasant way to go in the least. “Guess that leaves me to make sure it’s at least still stable,” she said, grasping the lowest rung she could easily reach at eye level.

Climbing up, Nabiki reached the top of the ladder and levered herself onto flat ground with a grunt and some small effort. Peeking over the top before committing herself fully, she’d seen nothing immediately worrisome. She crept away from the opening and gave Benhart room to make the ascent as she took better stock of the surroundings. The tree they’d seen from below was much more massive in person, towering above the encircling walls that formed a rough enclosure.

As she waited, Benhart clambered up, huffing and puffing as he maneuvered his girth through the hole in what was now the ground from Nabiki’s point of view. The space here was littered with fallen leaves, more mulch than whole remnants from the huge tree. Like down below along the river, there were bodies strewn about the roots of the tree, victims or participants of some pitched battle judging by the few weapons and arrows pricking the soil here and there.

“Unlucky bastards,” the big man swore, following Nabiki’s train of thought as he plopped himself onto solid ground once more.

The two sat there for a bit, resting from the earlier battle and the long climb afterward. They weren’t there long before the first of many arrows began peppering the ground far too close to their resting limbs. Scampering away from the hole, Benhart pulled his shield from where it was slung across his back, raising it up to ward off the faintly whistling projectiles. “Ambush,” he grunted, skirting sideways to provide cover to his partner as they looked for a way out.

Nabiki ducked behind the protection that Benhart offered, realizing just how much trouble she would have already been in if she’d tried to set out on her own. From her position, she took a moment to spot where the assault was coming from. “Up there, on the wall,” she directed the big swordsman, pointing over his right shoulder. A single hollow soldier was standing on the rampart, almost behind the cover of the thick tree trunk, readying another salvo with a bow and what looked to be a full quiver of arrows at his emaciated side.

Off to the left, along the wall of the tower, a gaping doorway shrouded in thick fog caught her attention, and she informed her human shield of the potential egress.

It was a decision that proved easy enough to make, as the supposed corpses littering the roots and grounds about the tree began to rise, one by one, stirred awake by the presence of the cursed undead not yet fallen victim to the hollowing. “It better be clear on the other side of that mist,” Nabiki deadpanned in Benhart’s helmet covered ear. She didn’t like the look of the rolling fog seemingly held in place as it was, but the alternative she could see, well she opted for the unknown rather than the assorted collection of rusty swords and hatchets headed her way.

“Here’s to hoping,” the big man replied, “Because we’ve got little choice in the matter when the odds are in their favor. Hope you’re up for a run, lass. Just stick beside me, and maybe we won’t be stuck in the arse with a flight of arrows,” he gathered himself and made to rush the fog shrouded gap in the wall.

So, they ran. Into what proved to be a short tunnel beyond the fog, the sound of stumbling boots and unsheathed steel ringing in the dim corridor at their heels. A corridor that wasn’t quite empty as Nabiki might have wished, though a couple of lone hollows ambling aimlessly in the dark were better odds than the troop trampling after the pair of fleeing travelers.

Breaking through the far end of the tunnel, they ran up a short flight of steps and out into the open once more. The sun was lower in the sky already, but not yet set over the far horizon. The area they ran up into wasn’t unoccupied either, as a spear wielding hollow and a slightly better armored mindless knight roused themselves to battle the swordsman and dagger armed woman.

Clearing the way, neither Nabiki nor Benhart heard anything else approaching from the tunnel steps. “Must’ve tired out,” he guessed, not seeing helm nor ripe head of their former pursuit.

“They’re not the only ones then,” Nabiki said, hand on her aching side where a slash from the spear had nicked her good. It didn’t feel fatal, but still hurt something fierce when she bent at all, or took a breath for that matter.

“Aye, this is thirsty work,” Benhart countered, kicking the plate armored hollow hard in the chest before laying into it with his great blade. “A man could use a drink about now,” he grinned, ducking under the hollow’s notched longsword. The slower knight had managed to land a few blows that the bearded warrior turned aside with his thick armor, but it would certainly bruise from the weight of the contact.

Once the hollows were properly felled, and their souls collected, Nabiki was free to examine just where they’d ended up after the mad dash. “Looks like we’ve made it to Saulden’s fort,” she said with a wince, the spear having given her more problems than she cared to have in the end.

The view from the top of the tunnel housing was actually quite spectacular, she found. Looking over toward where they’d emerged, she could see the tops of the forest, far more vast than she’d expected. There was a small clearing leading up to the base of the building they were standing atop, a series of wooden scaffolds, likely for repair work, was snug against the masonry, planks and boards all forming a series of ramps that could potentially be scaled to reach the ground if one were thus inclined, but that path led away from the center of the fort.

No, she was more interested in the nearby ladder that led ever upward, and the building that towered overhead, one with twin doors larger than any she’d seen as far as she could recall, which wasn’t that impressive of a feat considering the muddled state of affairs between her ears. “That way,” she gestured toward the doors with her bloodied dagger.

“Ever upward, sounds like a plan to me,” Benhart agreed, securing his sword for the thankfully short climb up the much sturdier iron ladder that led to the next destination.

The great doors budged from the combined effort of the duo, as even Benhart was forced to dig his boots into cracks underfoot to get proper leverage. Straining, and sweating, they managed to push open the twin doors enough for even the sword wielder’s bulk to fit comfortably through. Benhart adjusted his helm as it had slid nearly sideways off his head from the leaning he’d had to do to use his shoulder to help widen the crack.

It had been quite a flight, Benhart decided, feeling the ache from the blows that had managed to land here and there. Too many hollows to handle outright, and with arrows raining down from the parapet of the tower, discretion was the better part of valor. Still, neither he nor his partner had escape the ordeal unscathed, both taking a cut or two, and the woman fairing worse if only for her lighter garb. As they pushed at the exceedingly heavy doors, he could see dark spots welling up on her side and along her leggings, where the blood was still flowing from gashes right through the leather.

Beyond the oversized doors, the pair were rewarded with a very welcome sight. “Is that,” the thinner figure took a wobbling step forward into the hall beyond the doorway.

“That it is, lass. As joyful a sight as any for these weary bones,” Benhart answered, following after the dazed woman. “A bonfire.”

Twisted metal poking out of the ashen pile beckoned the travel worn pair, and Nabiki stumbled toward it like a moth to a flame, ignorant of the hall’s surroundings, at least until her outstretched fingers brushed the charred metal, kindling the brilliant flame from its slumber within the sacred ashes. She could sense Benhart’s approach only because she had grown used to his constant presence at her side. Making room, she collapsed in a jumble of limbs, seating herself near the warmth of the flames as her companion did likewise. Both could feel the tension and fatigue of the long climb slough away, shedding like old worn skin.

But, the respite was not to last, as a rough aged voice cut into the otherwise pleasant reverie. “Oh, don’t you two look cozy. Can’t be bothered to greet an old woman? Tired from playing with all those Hollows, are you?”

Nabiki and Benhart turned as one, discovering that they weren’t alone in the hall. Just behind the large pillars surrounding the bonfire, a shape lurked in the shadows cast by the flickering light, little more than a bundle of robes and ragged cloth tucked inconspicuously among the remains of a wooden cart laden with odds and ends. In the shadows, the figure blended in with the ruins of the building, little more obvious than a pile of discarded junk.

“Who’s there,” Benhart called out, hand resting on the grip of his great blade.

Wary from the hollows that liked to pretend to be corpses, Nabiki sat up a little straighter, putting her back to the comforting flame so that she was facing the stranger.

“You’ve no need of that. Nothing to fear from the likes of me. Plenty enough to worry about away from the bonfire, eh?” The ragged figure slid herself and her cartload a little closer to the light, revealing a wrinkled visage, with the unmistakable pallor of the undead. “Name’s Melentia, merchant by trade, as if the goodies on my cart didn’t rightly clue you in.” The woman was already unrolling a woven mat just in front of herself, arranging various wares for easy display even in the poor lighting. “Do an old woman a favor and buy something, would you?”

Curiosity getting the better of him, the armored warrior moved over to take a better look, followed by Nabiki. The pair had amassed a fair amount of souls between them, courtesy of the hollowed soldiers, and the filthy beast that they’d managed to fell along the riverbank.

The collection of items on the worn and tattered mat were of better quality and condition than the seller displaying them, which provided some assurance to the doubt that had crept up on Nabiki. She recalled the prices in the armorer’s shop, and wondered if the old woman was open to haggling. The look in the undead merchant’s face was proof enough that she wanted the business, and would more than likely try to strike a bargain. At least that was the impression that Nabiki’s gut was giving her.

“And these are,” the brown haired woman asked, indicating several black orbs wrapped in twine, around the size of tennis balls.

“You’ve an eye for the fun things, don’t you dearie. Firebombs, those are, just as likely to light up a careless undead, as a clambering group of hollows. Take a care, and they’ll surely prove just the trick in a pinch.”

Nabiki withdrew her hand, as she considered the warning. Yet, the explosives held her interest. Anything that kept harm at a distance was a good thing. The dagger she’d been given, while extremely sharp, was a very personal weapon, leaving her in harm’s way more than not.

Among the other wares, she eyed a few small crystals that felt similar to the calming heat of the bonfire even without directly holding them, and a curious stone block just slightly bigger than Benhart’s closed fist.

The swordsman leaned over and whispered to his partner once he noticed what she was appraising, “I’ve seen the like before, some right weird invention. Supposed to open hidden doors, and operate tricks of all kinds. Bet it costs a small fortune.”

Nabiki only nodded faintly, concealing her own interest further, lest it weaken her position. The value of souls was hard to grasp, and that was already to her disadvantage, though eliminating monsters did seem to be a quick way to gather more as the need arose. “Those crystals, what do they do?”

Benhart answered for the merchant, “Helps out if we’re in a spot of trouble, patches up the odd cut or scrape easily enough, bit weaker than a few sips of that swill.”

“How much, for the bombs, and that stone,” Nabiki asked, making up her mind.

“Seeing as you’re first time customers, I could put these in your hands for, oh,” the old woman chuckled, “this many souls,” she said holding up a thumb and forefinger.

Nabiki felt her lips draw into a tight line, unsure of the counting method, and nearly boggling if it was similar to what she felt was familiar. “Two hundred,” she hazarded, figuring it was better to guess on the low end.

The merchant shook her head, “The stone alone is worth five times as much.”

The wanderer opened her hand, palm face up, taking stock of the souls that flickered into being. Two thousand was just about all she’d managed to gather, and certainly more than she was willing to part with for an item of dubious use. “And just the firebombs?”

Melentia held up a single pinky, “Six hundred for the lot of them, and that’s a steal,” she winked.

“And if I throw in this,” Nabiki dug out the pitted blade she’d scavenged off a corpse back in the passage. It was heavy, and weighing her down more than she’d expected on picking it up in the first place.

“Hmm, that’s not half bad, might find a use for it. Fine, five plus that knife, and you’re still getting the better of me.”

Frowning behind her scarf, the young woman nodded, feeling that the hag was humoring her. “It’s a deal then,” she held out her hand to transfer the souls, and placed the dagger on the mat in exchange for the three dark spheres.

The merchant addressed Benhart when she was satisfied with the transaction, “You there, big fellow, you look trusting enough. I’ve something for you, seeing as you lot were kind as to buy my wares,” Melentia dug around the depths of her robes, finally happening on what she was searching for. “Be a dear and take this to that fool of a smith. The one in Majula. Can’t rightly miss him for all the grumping he does. Left it in the door he did, and gone of wandering about who knows where. Fool he might be, he’s not ever done me wrong, so I says to me self, why not lock the place up good and proper and keep an eye on the key. So I did, and now you can give it back to him,” the old woman’s eyes glittered humorously in the firelight.

Benhart took the proffered key and glanced at his companion, who shrugged. “I’ve seen the smith. Seemed to have most his wits about him, but I suppose he could be the forgetful sort, seems to be the case more often than not in these parts,” the big man said, pocketing the key. “I’ll get it back to him, soon as we head that way again.”

Melentia grinned, “Oh, I don’t doubt you’ll reach Majula long before these old bones. Never gets easier, lugging around one’s livelihood on a back as crooked as mine,” she sputtered out a raspy chuckle. “High time I took leave of this place. Thought there was a good chance for business,” her hood shook back and forth, “Almost no one comes by though, aside from you two, and that handsome fellow a while back,” she pointed past the bonfire. “He’s gone down that way, and like as not won’t be coming back if I was a betting woman. There’s no luck to be had down that hole, just fire and death.”

“That’s comforting,” Nabiki replied, her words muffled by the heavy scarf. She looked around the hall, squinting in her attempt to pierce the long shadows cast by the pillars. Behind the merchant, a set of stairs led to an upper floor. To the other side of the bonfire, where the hole in the floor was, thick twisted roots rose up toward the ceiling, each easily the width of her body. She pointed to the stairs, “What’s up there?”

The old withered woman craned her neck, a disturbing sight all considered. “These legs couldn’t be bothered to make the climb,” she lamented. “But, that young lad went up, curious as you, and came back down quick enough. Something about a jammed door, if memory serves.”

“I could give it a go,” Benhart suggested, potentially up to the task of dislodging a door, provided it wasn’t as sturdy as the double doors leading into the hall. That effort had sapped much of his gusto, bonfire rest aside.

“Leave it for now,” Nabiki thought aloud, turning her attention to the hole, and the only other visible egress aside from the way they’d entered. “Fire and death, sounds charming,” she stared at the old woman. “Can’t imagine you made the climb down that way either.”

“You wouldn’t be wrong there, dearie,” the undead woman chuckled wetly in her throat. She leaned in toward the leather clad traveler. “Surely, you can feel it, deep in your bones,” one crooked finger pointed to the hole. “Power, old thought it might be, still dwells in the depths beneath our feet. Lost for years, but not quite forgotten. That’s what sleeps there, and what draws the poor mindless fools to their doom, left to wander about with nothing but empty craving in their hollow heads. It calls out to you too. Wouldn’t be here searching for something otherwise, now would you?”

“Maybe you’re right,” Nabiki acknowledged, staring at the top of the ladder that she could see sticking out of the hole near the growth of roots. It wasn’t power she craved though, but answers. Answers to questions she couldn’t quite yet grasp, unspoken things waiting on the tip of her tongue. “Whatever it is, sitting around here won’t get us any closer,” she levered herself up, securing the newly acquired bombs to her belt with the loop of twine that was wrapped around the top of each round canister.

“Seems a bit of rest was just the thing,” Benhart agreed, rising to his feet and stretching next to the orange blaze.

“Don’t go trying too hard down there, or you’ll have a time making it back to Majula,” the merchant warned, waving a farewell to the duo as they negotiated the wide hole and disappeared one at a time down the ladder.

As they reached the bottom, the swordsman and the wayward traveler found themselves on a narrow span of stonework with the bonfire and thus the ceiling left high above. “Seems the old woman wasn’t spinning tales,” Benhart said, overlooking the drop off beyond the other side of the ladder.

The pair were greeted by a sweltering haze of smoke and steam rising up from a vast open space over which their perch made a rough circuit should they choose to follow the stone bricks that formed a rectangular walkway barely two meters across around the ruinous caldron below.

To the right of the ladder, just behind the duo, a reinforced wooden door barred entrance to the other half of the circuit. While the side they faced eventually led to an arched stone bridge spanning the gap across the pit down below. Carefully, using the ladder as a support, Nabiki leaned over to peek at the open space into the pit.

Gouts of flame spurted from cracks in the earth some dozen meters down, far enough that a fall would certainly be fatal. It was hard to tell through the haze of steam, but she thought she caught shapes moving about on the ground. Apparently she wasn't the only one, as Benhart’s rumble cut in, “Let’s not get too close, no need to risk a tumble. Big fellas pawing around down in that blasted place. Stinks something fierce.”

Nabiki nodded, pulling back to the cooler surface of the wall. “Sulfur,” she guessed, crinkling her nose at the pungent smell wafting up on the steam. “Let’s keep going, I’m starting to get all sweaty just standing here.”

“No complaints from me,” Benhart said, moping his helmeted brow, as he took up the rear. “Might do to check that though,” he thumbed toward the door just behind them.

“Be my guest,” Nabiki replied, loosening the scarf so it hung about her shoulders rather than covering the lower half of her face. It blocked less of the smell that way, but made the heat more bearable in exchange.

Benhart made no bones about giving the ringed handle on the door a firm tug, then putting more weight behind his efforts to ensure it wasn’t just stubborn from disuse. “Seems locked to me,” he said, giving one last rattle on the handle, turning back to Nabiki. “Maybe one of them has the key,” he announced offhand, drawing his blade as a pair of hollowed soldiers rose from the far side of the bridge and began moving toward the closest living thing, which happened to be his partner. “Suppose we’re about to find out,” he said, with a grin as the scarfed woman brandished her own weapon, taking care to stick close to the wall and not the side of the walkway close to the pit.

“I’m sure we can work out a compromise,” she said, preparing herself to meet the incoming hollows, one bearing what looked to be a halberd, and the other with a sword that was hardly longer than her dagger. Both foes were heavily armored, rattling and clanking as they crossed the bridge. It would certainly be more of a challenge trying to make sure her dagger found its mark between the creaking rusted plates. But, there was no real alternative, and she began to contemplate the shield that the blade wielding shambler bore in its off hand. It would be more useful in her own grasp, she decided, before making her move.


End file.
